The Jogos Nhai, like the Dothraki, are a savage nomadic people.
They likewise have no interest in the sea or ships. Living by herding, they raid civilized city-states in all directions to obtain ironware and other supplies.
They form tribes similar to khalasars, led by chiefs akin to khals, and live in tent dwellings much like yurts.
Their skin tones are also similar—Jogos Nhai skin is sallow and waxy yellow, while the Horse Men are a bronzed yellow.
However, in both appearance and physique, the Jogos Nhai cannot compare to the Dothraki. Their men and women have the custom of binding their faces starting at the age of two (Fat Martin hinting at foot-binding?), so their skulls grow into sharp, elongated shapes—large heads, small faces—making them look extremely ugly.
Moreover, they are short and squat, lacking the tall, powerful builds and long limbs of the Horse Men. But the mounts of the Jogos Nhai are stronger than those of the Dothraki. The Horse Men ride horses; they ride fierce zebras.
One are Horse Men.The other are Zebra Men.
Yet compared to the Dothraki, the Jogos Nhai have several customs that Daenerys finds admirable.
"Honored guest, please tell my people—how do the great Jogos Nhai maintain the integrity of their nation?" Daenerys gestured toward Aggo and more than a dozen Horse Men warriors dining together in the hall, and asked gently.
The Jogos Nhai took great pleasure in Daenerys's subtle flattery, and were even more secretly delighted by her sincere attitude of seeking advice.
"I understand what the Khaleesi means. Your khalasars split apart frequently. While this does eliminate many weak khals, the valor of a single man can never compare to the strength of an entire united tribe."
Of the two Jogos Nhai present, one was middle-aged, the other elderly with graying hair and beard. The middle-aged man remained silent, while the elder spoke eloquently.
"At the root of it, the Dothraki have never established a proper marriage system. Ordinary Horse Men have no wives, no children, and thus no blood ties binding them to their khalasar.
"You must understand—bloodline is the strongest bond in the world.
"Most of our tribes are sustained by blood relations, able to endure for hundreds or even thousands of years without collapsing. The war leaders, the jhats, are by no means weak either. They are often chosen from among the sons of the previous generation's jhat.
"As long as a jhat has enough wives, he will have enough sons. Among so many sons of good blood, it is more than possible to select a powerful warrior."
Daenerys nodded in approval. "This system is excellent. It's something we can learn from."
This was precisely the purpose of her banquet tonight.
Some things she could say herself—but how could words compare to the impact of a living example placed right before one's eyes?
Hearing praise from the Mother of Dragons, the old man grew even more animated and declared proudly, "A jhat is merely the leader of a tribe. Above the jhats stands the jhattar. All Jogos Nhai jhats submit to the rule of the jhattar. Thus, when facing powerful enemies, we Jogos Nhai can always unite as one."
Seeming to notice the faint look of skepticism on the Horse Men's faces, Daenerys immediately played along. "That's an outstanding system as well. Surely the Jogos Nhai have produced many epic-hero-level jhattars, yes?"
Every people has its epic heroes, and Daenerys did not truly expect the old man to recount someone genuinely earth-shattering.
She understood one thing deeply: all bloodline-based cultures use grand poetry to glorify their ancestors.
Even primitive tribes in the Stone Age, eating raw meat and drinking blood, would in their descendants' myths be transformed into beings who soar through the heavens and vanish into the earth.
So after asking, she took a sip of red wine and quietly waited for the sharp-headed old Jogos Nhai to start boasting.
The old man seemed never to have been so excited in his life. Waving his arms, he chanted passionately, "Ah, great Mother of Dragons, you truly have eyes that see like blazing torches. Only the wise can discern the wisdom of another wise one.
"Without a doubt, you are as wise as the ancestors of our Jogos Nhai."
"You flatter me, you flatter me. I'm far from it—far from it."
If we're talking about thick skin, I really can't compare to you people at all.
Daenerys maintained a humble smile on her face, while endlessly complaining in her heart.
"Our ancestors beat the Kingdom of Neighar until only a single city remained—a city that gathered vast numbers of necromancers and torturers. If ninety percent of that city hadn't been hidden underground, we would have broken through it long ago."
As if to heighten the greatness of this feat, the old man lowered his voice and added, "Don't underestimate necromancers, and don't think they're frauds. Do you know about the Long Night that once shrouded the world thousands of years ago?"
"The Others?" Jorah blurted out.
"Hehehe, I know of the Others—those living dead are the handiwork of necromancers. It is said that the Long Night was summoned by the Bloodstone Emperor, Son of Heaven of Yi Ti, using necromantic arts.
"Yet even such a powerful mage-kingdom was beaten by us until it was nearly destroyed." The old man said smugly.
"Wow, that's… incredibly powerful," Daenerys echoed, though inwardly she was doubtful.
Yi Ti lay several continents and seas away from Westeros. The Others didn't bother the Easterners, yet insisted on stubbornly harassing the people of the far west.
Leaving aside the reason—how did they even get there from so far away?
Did they take some shortcut through the Arctic Circle?Is the extreme northern wilderness beyond the Wall connected to Yi Ti?That's way too sci-fi—this is supposed to be a fantasy world!
"We also destroyed the Kingdom of the Heirs of Hyrkoon," the short, stocky old man continued.
"Forgive my ignorance, but why such a strange name—'Kingdom of the Heirs of Hyrkoon'?" Daenerys asked curiously.
Wouldn't 'Kingdom of the Hyrkoon Brothers' sound better?
"Even as enemies, we Jogos Nhai must acknowledge the greatness of Hyrkoon," the old man sighed, then asked in return, "Khaleesi, do you know the Hero's Red Sword?"
Daenerys thought for a long while before recalling the fairy tale of the Red Sword from her memories. "You mean Lightbringer?"
Jorah said solemnly, "Eight thousand years ago, when the Long Night fell, the Others plunged the entire world into endless darkness and cold. Heavy snows nearly erased the Seven Kingdoms from the map.
"At the moment of humanity's survival crisis, a hero arose—Azor Ahai!
He wielded the Hero's Red Sword, filled with light and heat, defeated the night and the ice, and brought light and warmth back to the world."
"That is exactly it," the old man nodded, sighing with emotion. "Azor Ahai was Hyrkoon. Regarding the ender of the Long Night, every people tells the same story,描绘着相似的英雄形象.
"Yet the hero's name differs. You Westerners call him 'Azor Ahai.' In the East, the heirs of Hyrkoon call him the Hero Hyrkoon. In Yi Ti he is called Yi·Tāl. In Neighar, he is known as Neferion, and also as 'the Shadowchaser,' Edrik.
"Though he died long ago in that legendary age of heroes, prophecies of his rebirth have circulated in the East for five thousand years—after a long summer, when the stars bleed and cold darkness covers the world, a warrior shall draw a burning sword from the flames. That sword is Lightbringer, the Hero's Red Sword. He who wields it is the reincarnation of Azor Ahai, and he will drive away the darkness."
"For such a great hero, it's hardly strange that his descendants would name their country the Kingdom of the Heirs of Hyrkoon."
The old man then declared proudly, "But we Jogos Nhai destroyed the ancient Kingdom of the Heirs of Hyrkoon. Now only three fortress cities remain—Samyrianna, Kayakayanaya, and Bayasabuhad. They are the last remnants of Hyrkoon's bloodline.
"When I was young, I followed the jhattar onto the Steel Road and took part in a three-year campaign against Kayakayanaya. I personally assaulted its walls twice."
This truly made Daenerys view the "neighboring Horse Men" in a new light. Compared to them, the Dothraki—who only knew how to steal other people's hero statues—had almost nothing worth boasting about.
The Nine Free Cities—none of them destroyed.So low.
Yet this was merely the appetizer. The glorious history of the Jogos Nhai continued.
"Neighar and the Kingdom of the Heirs of Hyrkoon were merely small states of the East. The true overlord was the Golden Celestial Dynasty of Yi Ti."
"Golden Celestial Dynasty?" Daenerys felt her teeth ache. That name was really something…
"Ah, it's no exaggeration," the old man waved his hand, thinking Daenerys doubted the worthiness of the title. With a solemn expression, he explained, "The Golden Celestial Dynasty was the land of a thousand gods and a hundred kings, ruled by a single Son of Heaven.
"At that time, the Valyrians were still herding sheep in the wilds!
The Son of Heaven was absolutely the strongest ruler in the known world. The size of his armies was beyond imagination. His wealth rivaled Valyria at its height. His imperial palace was larger than the Andals' King's Landing, and even the floor of his bedchamber was cast from gold."
"Have you ever been to King's Landing?" Ser Jorah asked darkly.
King's Landing was the capital of the Seven Kingdoms, yet it was said to be smaller than the palace of the Yi Ti Son of Heaven—this made the "fake Andal, true First Man" very unhappy.
The old "Zebra Man" glanced at him and said flatly, "The stench of excrement mixed with rotten fish in King's Landing's Fisherman's Square—I remember it to this day."
Not simple at all. This old Zebra Man had actually been to King's Landing, tens of thousands of miles away.
Daenerys immediately pulled the topic back. "Could it be that the valiant Jogos Nhai even destroyed the Golden Celestial Dynasty?"
"Not quite," the old man shook his head, speaking with both helplessness and pride. "For thousands of years, we frequently raided the northern borders of Yi Ti, but all we managed was to force the Son of Heaven to keep moving his capital farther south.
"Once, Yi Ti produced a young and valiant ruler—Emperor Luo Bao. He worked tirelessly, reformed the court, and nearly restored Yi Ti to the splendor of the Golden Celestial Dynasty.
"In his era, even we unruly Jogos Nhai had no choice but to submit and pay tribute.
"Unfortunately, Emperor Luo Bao believed that the Jogos Nhai submitted out of fear, not virtue—and that today's submission would inevitably become tomorrow's rebellion."
Daenerys nodded. That Emperor Luo Bao truly seemed to understand things clearly.
The old man admitted, "He was right. When the Golden Celestial Dynasty was strong, of course we submitted—we couldn't beat them. But when the dynasty declined, we'd be fools not to plunder it."
"Uh…"
The old Jogos Nhai was so blunt that Daenerys didn't even know what to say.
"What's wrong with that?" the old man gulped down a cup of wine and shouted loudly. "When the Yi Ti people were weak, didn't they send money and women to our jhattar to buy peace? And once they grew strong, didn't they massacre my people?
"The strong oppressing the weak is the law of heaven. It's only when the weak bully the strong that it violates natural order!"
"Did Emperor Luo Bao bully you?" Jorah asked.
"No. He didn't want to bully us—he wanted to eliminate future troubles, to completely exterminate the Jogos Nhai as a people!" The old man slammed his thigh and roared angrily. "That's just too damn bullying!"
Daenerys sighed inwardly, feeling regret for that ambitious emperor. Since the old Jogos Nhai was standing here cursing so vigorously, it was clear that Luo Bao had neither become a Han Wudi nor succeeded as a Tang Taizong.
...
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(End Chapter)